When I awake in the corner of the dusty factory the parachute is waiting for me. It's a blue small pot with that harsh smell than I recognise. I take out a small amount and rub it into the wound, the effect is instantly soothing. The skin is now purple-black and still ragged. I whisper my thanks to my mentors. Perhaps I do have sponsors after all.
I put the pot into my pocket and get ready for the day's journey. The boundary fence on this side is high, but it seems others have passed through already so I don't have too much trouble. I heard other tributes last night but luckily they did not find me.
I just make it to other side when the birds fall silent. There's a rumbling beginning further away, drawing closer with the seconds. The first bomb falls in the distance, I feel the ground shake beneath me. I hear the shouting of other tributes as they panic. Those who were closer to the other boundary will have to run towards me or die. They're drawing us closer again; they must want to remove this district soon. There are still sixteen surviving tributes. Fifteen more must die before this thing can finally be over.
I run as fast as possible, I hear other tributes behind me. Their own feat beat against the tightly-packed dirt. I don't stop until I have thrown my body through the hole in the fence into the lush forest I have been waiting for.
Of course: Lumber. Trees mean wildlife and wildlife means water. Right?
I breathe in the sweet smell of pine and bathe my face in the streaks of sunshine through the trees. It's heaven after the fumes and darkness of eight, but like all things in the arena I know that it will not last. The voices soon draw closer, I need to move. I'm rather sick of running, but I'm not ready to die just yet.
I find myself thinking of the 74th games, the woods are so similar to those in which Katniss and Peeta fought for their lives. I hear the clanging of swords, a fight has begun. All those tributes are now in the same district, only a few must be ahead of us. I'm surprised that I do not run into another tribute until midday.
I spend the morning searching for water; a tiny stream hidden among the grass allows a little hope. It's not enough to drink from, but it must run somewhere. My head is aching and my vision is blurred, I don't know how much longer I will last. I'm getting clumsy, my feet trip over each other and the closely packed tree trunks become harder to dodge.
Eventually the stream merges into a small pond, deep enough to bathe in. I use my cupped hands to drink as much water as possible, forgetting that I'm supposed to take a little at a time. Soon I begin to feel ill but like all my other ailments I ignore it.
I peel off my clothes for the first time in days feeling the sun on my skin. I know that I am leaving myself vulnerable but I'm losing the ability to care. I dip my toes into the cool water, emerging myself a little at a time until I'm submerged. Little plants with arrow-shaped leaves and small white flowers poke out from the water's edge. I remember something that Katniss said in the training centre. 'As long as you can find me, you'll never starve.' she said, pointing to the little drawing in her book. Sagittaria. The plant for which Katniss was named. I dig up the soft mud with my nails and pull out the roots. If I can cook them then I may not go hungry tonight.
I wrap the roots in a large leaf and leave them by the water's edge. I wash my clothes, leave them drying on the rocks then go back to bathing. I scrub away every last spec of blood until my skin is back to its normal snowy tint. I float in the water for a little while but soon my happiness is disturbed once more.
I grab my clothes and crouch throw them on as quickly as possible and crouch behind a cluster of trees. I'm not completely concealed but it's as good as it's going to get.
The boy has his back to me; he fills a bottle at the water's edge. He looks around nervously; the disturbed plants give me away. I'm not ready for a fight today.
I pulls his knife and spins around. I gasp when I see his face. Dark skin, piercing green eyes. Even covered with mud-packed clothing an soiled bandages I would recognise Elias anywhere. His arm falls and he smiles when he sees me. Perhaps he has forgiven me.
"Melodie! Finally!" he exclaims, his eyes full of light. I can't even remember my plan I have changed it so often, I give in and walk towards him. He pulls me into him and we spin, laughing for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. I breathe in his scent, my body safe within his arms.
"Where have you been? I've been searching for you for days." he whispers into my neck.
"What do you mean where was I? You left, not me." I say. I realise that I still feel hurt although I did not realise it. I wish I had stayed quiet. I do not blame him for leaving, I am a murderer.
"I regretted in the moment I left, but I guess I'm just stubborn. By the time I convinced myself to come back, the entire district had disappeared. I couldn't find you, there was so much to search." He says.
"Never mind, forget I mentioned it. I'm just glad you're back." I say. I can almost feel Haymitch's exasperation as I recall him words. One of us still must die, but I'm tired of loneliness. I spent enough years alone; I do not wish my final days or hours to be the same.
I collect my Katniss roots from the bank and begin to walk once more. With Eli at my side everything looks brighter, more defined. Even though we do not talk to stay concealed from other tributes I feel safer beside him.
We walk through the forest for most of the day, there's a cannon shot late afternoon. We combine our memory of the survival station and Katniss' book to collect plants for supper tonight. By the time we rest I'm out of breath, Eli walks so much faster than I do but I didn't want to slow him down. If I am to stay then I must not be a burden.
Elias leads me into the centre of the district where the trees thin and more light is allowed to break through the canopy. We will not be safe to stay here now that eight is gone; too many of us are closely packed. We use the remaining light to build a fire before it is able to give away our location.
Eli has gained items since he was been gone; he removes a selection of plants from his bag. I feel bad that I have so little to contribute to the meal, but I know Eli well enough to know he will not mind. Katniss was right – the roots cooked are as good as any potato.
When sunset comes we put out the fire and walk until we find a lodge on the outskirts of the cluster. We decide to take watch in shifts, beginning with him. I am glad of it, I am exhausted. It is completely empty so Elias removed the blanket from his backpack and spreads it out on the floor. It looks like the one that Ezra and I shared. I'm not sure why but I feel guilty.
We wait for the capitol seal to show and the anthem begins once again. Just one death again today, a boy who represented district four.
"His name was Byron. He was a nice kid. The Kendall family moved into your old apartment a few years back. He had a little sister, she's just five." says Eli.
"There's no room for sentiment here, Eli." I say.
"I know that, I'm just sick of all the death. I miss real life, or as real as you could get in the Capitol." he says.
"Me too. Even the tower was better than this, and I was a few weeks away from plotting the murder of the head housemaid if she criticised my ability to make my own bed one more time." I say.
"I guess there's one advantage to this thing. I got to see you again." He says. I'd tell him not to be so stupid if I could bear it. Even though it is awful I'm l glad of him too. Without the games we may not have met again for years. Even if I only get to have him for a short time before my death it's better than not at all. It's a selfish thought, but that's who I am now. Selfish, murderous Melodie.
Eli sits with his back to the wall and I rest my head in his lap. This way if he leaves me again I will awaken. I fall asleep easily in his presence.
It's still dark when Eli wakes me to take my watch. The air is icy now; he lies beside me underneath the blanket. I can't stand the cold so he pulls me into him, my back pressed into his body and my head beneath his chin. His long arms wrap around me, protecting me from the world.
"I can't sleep." He says after a while.
"Shush, you need rest if we're going to walk tomorrow. They're drawing us closer together, we need to prepare for a fight if it comes to it." I whisper.
"I don't want to talk about the games. Just for a few moments I don't want to think about the lives that are to be lost. I don't want to think of the grieving families or anything remotely related to morbidity." I know what he is hinting at, but I am reluctant. I clear my throat as quietly as possible as I begin, for the first time in years, to sing the song which my mother learned in district eleven before my birth.
Down in the valley, the valley so low
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow;
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.
Roses love sunshine, violets love dew,
Angels in Heaven know I love you,
Know I love you, dear, know I love you,
Angels in Heaven know I love you.
If you don't love me, love whom you please,
Throw your arms 'round me, give my heart ease,
Give my heart ease, dear, give my heart ease,
Throw your arms 'round me, give my heart ease.
Build me a castle, forty feet high;
So I can see her as she rides by,
As she rides by, dear, as she rides by,
So I can see her as she rides by.
She always called it 'The Valley song', although I was warned never to sing it in front of my Grandfather. For the first few weeks after she was killed it was the only thing that made me feel close to my parents. It was part of them, something that I only ever shared with Elias. I use the sword to see his face. He is smiling in sleep.
I had to explain to Eli what angels were the first time he heard it. I knew from my mother that a long time ago people believed that there was somebody in the sky watching over them, keeping them safe from harm. The angels were pure and helped him in his work; they lived in a world called heaven. All of that was forgotten by the time Panem was founded, all we had for reference was the books salvaged from the old world. The people of Panem need something to believe in, but those in the districts know nobody is there to save them. No mighty being would allow seventy six years of murder, twenty three children turned into monsters then executed at the hands of each other. Sometimes I wish we still had something to hope for, a better place to go once we die. For me it will be soon and I would love to believe that I will go to somewhere beautiful for the rest of eternity. The only thing stronger than fear is hope.